Crystal Tears

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Chapter 1 – Shattered Hearts

The shrill shattering of yet another polished crystal glass woke Mark from his slumber.

With groggy eyes, the fourteen year old boy gazed around his bedroom. His glazed vision passed idly over the clock on his nightstand, which read precisely 7:18, before settling on his open door. Sunlight streamed through the window, creating a golden glow through which dust could be seen floating haphazardly, spinning wildly with the overhead fan's breeze.

Mark lifted his head and strained to make out the muffled yells that were coming from the kitchen, just down the hall. He couldn't understand what his parents were saying, but he got the gist of it. He shook his head, thinking, Mom and Dad….

Mark knew that couples often fought over things, but he thought his parents had had more than their fair share of arguments. The pair fought over just about everything, from the family dog, to who go to sit where at dinner. Mark had long since stopped worrying about their spats; he knew they weren't anything serious.

Mark sighed, laid his head back down on his pillow, and fell back asleep.

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Some time later, rough hands shook Mark back into consciousness. Startled, his eyes snapped open, and he looked up, searching wildly for the source.

It was his mother. Mark gazed into her tear-filled eyes, wondering what was wrong. "Mark…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Your father. He-he's been hurt."

Mark stared in disbelief. The pain in his mother's crystal blue eyes was unmistakable. The tears that fell were ones of sorrow, of loss. "What happened?" whispered Mark.

In a grave voice, she told him. The argument that Mark had overheard wasn't one between his parents. While he had slept, a man had snuck into their house and shot his father. Mark's mother had tried in vain to stop the man, but he was far too strong. He had robbed the family of everything and anything they held dear, most noticeably, Mark's father.

Mark and his mother walked into the kitchen, clutching each other tightly. A pool of blood stained the linoleum floor where his father had fallen. An ambulance had sped him to the hospital, and Officer Jenny was here, overseeing the investigation.

Jenny noticed the stricken family and strode toward them. In a subdued voice, she gave them the facts.

"Whoever did this was a professional. We couldn't get any fingerprints, hairs, anything. And you're sure you didn't get a look at his face, Mrs. Harrison?"

Mark's mother shook her head. "No, he wore a mask. But his voice…I'd remember that anywhere."

Officer Jenny nodded and marched off toward a group of investigators near the blood, leaving the two of them alone.

"Mom," Mark said in a quavering voice, "what are we going to do?"

His mother was silent for a moment, staring blindly into the distance. "I don't know, son. I don't know."

They stood together in silence, watching the police at work.

Suddenly, the high-pitched whine of cell phone sounded. Officer Jenny reached down to her belt and straightened with the device in her hand. "Jenny here," she barked into the receiver. She listened for a moment, then drew a deep breath in surprise of what she'd just heard. The conversation lasted a moment longer, then, with a promise of, "I'll tell them," she hung up.

Mark and his mother watched her apprehensively as Jenny walked over again, her mouth drawn in a tight line. "Mrs. Harrison, Mark, I-I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…" Her voice trailed off as she stared, at a loss for words.

Mark spoke up. "What, Officer Jenny? Nothing can be worse than what's already happened."

Officer Jenny sighed. Her eyes were cast downward as she said, "Mrs. Harrison, your husband has just…passed away. I'm sorry." She turned away.

"No." A sharp hiss escaped his mother's mouth, and Mark winced as her grip on him tightened. Hot tears welled from her eyes and dripped onto his forehead.

"Mom, it's-it's not true, is it?" Mark's innocent eyes gazed up at his mother, wanting, needing reassurance.

She didn't answer.

Mark gulped and swallowed, nodding against the pain in his chest. He gazed into the pool of blood on the floor, his father's blood, and made a silent vow to himself. I will avenge you, Dad, he swore. I promise.

Mark and his mother stood together, passive in the midst of the bustle of policemen. They clutched each other tightly, grieving as one, feeling the loss of Mark's father as profoundly as if their world had ended. And in a sense, it had. Only time would mend their shattered hearts.

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Well…I don't know about you, but I love happy beginnings. I apologize to those of you who read this and expected some ditzy, happy story. I promise it will be later, but I needed to write this for the back story. And I know there wasn't much about Pokemon in this chapter, but again, I promise there will be loads of it later. After all, this is a Pokemon story. So, bear with me, comment, and be cheerful. Peace.

Will